Helena and The Baron
by The Scribz
Summary: He stared at his blood-covered hands, horror clearly etched upon his face, as I looked up at him through heavy eyes.  Death was coming near, and I slowly sank to the realms of the unknown.  NOT HORROR.


Disclaimer: This is a piece of pure fiction. This is in no way created by or affiliated with J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Okay, so this is just something that I wrote like last year… And it's been sitting on my laptop, unfinished, collecting virtual dust ^_^; So, I decided to finish it, revise it, and post it! Review and tell me what you think (hint hint wink wink)

I've always been jealous of my beautiful mother. After all, how could I not be? Mother had everything that I seemed to lack: Beauty, Grace, Intelligence… Mother was truly a sight to behold.

And I, unfortunately, was not.

I was soon lost: lost in grief, in misery, in all that I had failed in. But mother could never see that. After all, why should she care about a daughter who had failed in everything? Why should she care about a daughter who had only give her, and her precious school, trouble?

She shouldn't. And she didn't.

I suppose that would be why I took the diadem. I knew there would be no retribution. How could I not? Mother would be too concerned about how it would look to have a daughter so despicable that she would steal her mother's most prized possession. It was fairly easy to get away, mother would never have expected where I went.

Albania was such a lonely country.

In time, however, I grew to love my barren lands, and the small animals that lived there became…. acquaintances, I suppose. They were funny creatures, always scurrying about. They never minded me much; they rarely even noticed me. Things were peaceful. I had my mother's diadem, and I could learn an infinite amount with it! I could finally be important!

Then he came.

He ruined everything. The baron found me quickly, not even months after I had left my mother. He came, rambling on about my mother, and her sickness.

But I didn't believe him.

You see, the Baron was a man whom I held no great emotions. He was, perhaps, on the days he stayed in my company longest, an annoyance, yet nothing more, nothing less. I could not believe him, simply because I knew him. He had claimed to love me, all of the time he had known me, yet he was treacherous, dangerous. He would do anything to get whatever he wanted, and I believed at the time that he had wished to marry me; he had proposed only days before I left. So, naturally, I told him no. When he asked me for my reasons, I was honest, and quite frankly, very blunt.

I only wish that I could have known what danger I had put myself in. Maybe then I would have held my tongue.

But alas, I did not. And unfortunately for both myself, and the Baron, he had very little control over his temper, and when he _lost_ his temper, it would not fair well for anyone, himself included.

His anger grew beyond measure, and soon I was forced to watch, transfixed in my terror, as he drew a knife from his belt and backed me up against a tree. I could only stare as the man who once claimed to have loved me turned into some kind of _monster_. He held no regard for me as tears started to pour from my eyes. His contempt seemed to grow greater still from my apologies. Finally, agonizingly slowly, he stabbed the knife into my chest, just below my heart.

A fatal wound, but one that would only allow me to slowly bleed to death.

Suddenly, he seemed to snap back to himself. He stared at his blood-covered hands, horror clearly etched upon his face, as I stared at him through heavy eyes. Death was coming near, and I slowly sank into the realms of the unknown.

Fitting, wasn't it? How ironic was it that I would die by the hands of the only man that has ever claimed to love me. How ironic that I would die during my quest for knowledge, and how ironic it was that he gave me even greater knowledge, knowledge that I would not have found for years to come, had it not been for him. How ironic, that I had even learned from the death he gave me.

I learned what it felt like to die. I learned what it felt like to be stabbed. I learned what it felt like to feel true terror. I learned what it felt like to be hurt by one I had not thought capable of hurting me in such measure. How ironic indeed.

Yet, I always wondered, what would it have been like if I had said yes? What would have happened if I visited my dying mother, married the Baron? Would I be a ghost now, as I was? Would he have soon flew into a rage anyway and killed me? Or would he have been happy, would he have given me such happiness, one that I had never known?

Forever is a long time to ponder such thoughts, though one may never receive answers.

Suddenly, I was shaken from my reverie back to the present. Hogwarts. Nearly a millennium after my death. Times have changed, people have changed, but yet I am still here, aren't I? And yet, so is he.

His name is "Bloody Baron" now.

It suits him well, I think. He certainly lives up to the name. Apparently, after my body had died (Because as a ghost, you realize that your mind and soul never can truly die), the Baron had also taken his life force, stabbed himself and let his blood mix with mine upon his clothes, which took to his appearance now. Yes, he certainly was bloody enough. But anyway, let me not get sidetracked again.

A girl in my house, of Ravenclaw, was talking obnoxiously with her friends, laughing loudly, and making rude comments every so often. It seemed that all girls were like this now a days. Uncaring about anyone but themselves, though, of course, they cared a tremendous deal about their wretched appearance. They slathered some sort of gunk upon their faces, trying to mask the flaws that my skin also once held.

How foolish could youth be?

But, alas, I am getting sidetracked again. They were, of course, gossiping about the next ball coming up at Hogwarts. To be held on December 31st, as a way to ring in the New Year with all of their friends. They were soon swapping stories of who would be going with whom, yet again giving off a disruptive giggle. Finally, I had had enough. I floated outside, going through walls, and scaring all others in my way, for everyone seemed to be intimidated by me (for reasons I do not know, though I suspect it has something to do with the stab wounds on my ghostly physique).

At last, however, I reached my destination.

The Whomping Willow was perhaps, the most dangerous tree that I had ever encountered. It would attack anything and anyone, though, as I have no discernable body, the willow never attacked me. I floated up to its branches, never touching even a twig, yet climbing higher next to the trunk. Finally, I reached my destination… The highest branch of the tree. I gazed down at Hogwarts serenely, enjoying the peace I had acquired. I could, once again, ponder my thoughts…

That is, until _he_ showed up.

The Baron looked up at the Willow, saw where I sat, and in a fierce determination started to float to me. I watched him, wondering if he was just hell-bent on ruining everything for me. He had been trying to corner me for years, never once giving up. Finally, I had snapped once, many years ago, and told him if he wanted to talk, then he would first have to correctly answer my questions:

If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

What is beyond the expanses of the ever-growing Universe?

Is there a god?

I gave him these questions three years ago, and by the look in his eyes, he finally had the answers to such questions.

The Baron opened his mouth to speak, giving me a dismal greeting as his chains clinked around him. "Good day, Helena, may I ask if you are well?" Staring into his long-dead, silver eyes, I answered, "I have naught to make me unwell, and therefore am well in turn." I couldn't resist answering in such ways, not from mirth, just habit.

"As you most-likely have figured out, Helena, I have the answers to your questions." He answered, jumping straight to the point. I looked up, merely curious. I have had these answers years ago, but wished to hear him go on.

"First, if a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to here it, it is impossible to conclude whether or not sound has been made. It can be theorized either way, depending on the definition of "sound" and likewise, of the definition of "noise". The first answer is impossible in every way to conclude.

"Second, anything beyond the expanses of the known Universe is too vast and incomprehensible for the brain of a mortal to understand. Even if one had their answer, it would be physically impossible to understand such an answer, and therefore your answer would not exist to yourself because you would not be able to decipher it.

"And finally, the only one capable of truly knowing if there is a god, would be that God himself (or herself). One can claim to be god, and others may believe but none but such a higher being could truly know."

I stood, stunned at the Baron. I had expected less than he had presented, perhaps a blind following of faith in random gossip that had accumulated over centuries, not a true thought. That was intellect in a higher form than I thought him capable of, in all honesty. He had definitely surprised me greatly, of that I was willing to admit.

"So?' The Baron looked at me pleadingly, "May we talk now? Were my answers correct?" He asked. "Yes. Yes, I believe your answers to be correct until further knowledge of such things may or may not be proved otherwise. You may speak freely now." Came my stiff reply.

"I wish to formally apologize. If I may be so bold as to say such, it has caused me, and I assume you, much pain over the years at which we have stayed. I know not why we still haunt these lands of the mortals, but it has caused more time for our pain to grow, I do believe.

"Also, I would like to apologize for being so arrogant as to hunt you down in the first place, wishing to force your hand. I realize the irreversible damage my insolence has caused. Had I not been so enthralled by my human emotions, I would not have ever harmed you."

"Is that all?" I asked, my temper rising. "I have known these things, and yet I have not forgiven them. You were brash and emotional as a mortal, that is true, but you were bright enough to know to not kill the girl you supposedly love. I will not believe that you grabbed a knife in a fit of passion. Please, if you wish to apologize, do not give me feeble excuses and half-hearted pleas. They will not work." With that, I floated off and into the distance.

I would not be made a fool.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ (Time Skip) _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I entered the great hall the night of the ball, December 31st. The evening was young, yet already the youths of Hogwarts were twirling on the floor, laughing with their respective partners.

It was almost enough to make me sick.

However, as a ghost, it was expected that I attend formal functions such as the beginning of the year speeches, balls, formal dinners, award ceremonies, and graduations. It was dreadfully dull, but I sat through them anyway, stoic faced but steaming with contempt inside.

Seeing the insipid girls from before draw near, I quickly backed myself against a wall, where I (unfortunately it was impossible to be literally) bumped into Sir Nick, or more commonly referred to as "Nearly Headless Nick". He was wearing a smile, as usual, and greeted me joyously before asking me to dance with him. I, for propriety's sake, quickly agreed and joined him on the dance floor for a quick turn about.

"How are you this evening, my lovely lady?" He asked, still grinning from an unknown source of mirth. "Quite well. And yourself?" I asked, still out of polite necessity. "I'm quite fantastic this evening! This ball is very entertaining, if I do say so myself. Why, I've just been studying my students, well, you could call it eavesdropping if you prefer," he started, grinning, "And I've hear the most delightful gossip!" I bit back a witty retort, and restrained an eye-roll, though it was extremely difficult. "You see, there are rumors going around about a certain Harry Potter, the famous 7th year. It's terribly funny, if you would like to hear?" I opened my mouth, about to answer that I'd just _love_ to hear that piece of useless information, when a cold voice made me freeze.

"I'm afraid I must ask if I may cut in and dance with the lovely lady?" The Baron asked, his eyes showing no fear of rejection, yet there was an unspoken air of hesitance surrounding him. "You may." I replied, and Sir Nick left quickly, laughing whilst bidding fair well, and then finding someone else to bother.

The Baron's hands quickly found my waist, and we danced slowly, at an arm's length apart. He opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again, no words having passed his lips. Finally, he spoke. "Helena. I apologize once again. Words cannot describe my sincerest amount of pain in hurting you. Both now and then.

"I will not give you excuses for what I did, but please, please realize that I truly regret it. I will never atone for my sins, but as you can see, I have been trying to start." He said, while giving his chains a small rattle. "I loved you. I did not wish to hurt you, and I know that will never be enough, but it is my beginning." I looked at him, surprised by his blunt honesty.

"Forgive me, I must leave." I said quickly, turning around and leaving the room. My thoughts raced, my vision blurred, and I headed for my spot upon the Whomping Willow. As I sat down, I let a breath of wind wash over me, and let my shoulders sag for once. However, I heard a noise and tensed up again. It was the Baron, under the tree and on the ground.

"I will not let you escape again, Helena." He stated with determined eyes, before gently floating up to meet me. "It causes too much pain. For both of us." I was startled by his use of his old arrogant tone, the one he had as a human. "I was wrong. Many times have I been wrong. But I refuse to be wrong this time." He said, determination coloring his tone. Then, he did something he had never done to me, not in either my years as a ghost, nor as a mortal.

He kissed me.

It wasn't a real kiss, mind you. There was no flesh, no substance. Nothing but cold air could be felt from either of us. But it was enough. I realized something that had never quite clicked before.

I was loved.

I had heard it from him, granted, a million and one times from the time we had met. But he was what people now call a "womanizer". He spent his time tracking down and wooing girls. His 'I love you's were not special to me; they had been used on too many girls before. But now I was the only one. He was not just trying to apologize now. He was reaffirming that he really did love me. He was the first person to love me.

He was the only one who had ever loved me, mother included.

The thought made me cry. Sobs racked my body and translucent tears ran down my cheeks, but he kept at it. He just kept kissing me. And it felt good.

It felt good to be loved.


End file.
